


Fins and Hooves

by IndigoWinter



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: (who will kick your ass), (with a big crush), Alive Champions, Alternate Universe, BAMF Zelda, Cute Centaur Kitty Boy Link, Fast and Loose LoZ Mythos, Fluff, Kinda, Link is Still the Hero of Courage, Link is Your Friendly Neighborhood Monster Boy, Lynel Link, Lynel Mating Behavior, M/M, Multi, Mute Link, No Calamity Ganon, Short but Dense Chapters, There will be Plot, There will be fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 11:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12275352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoWinter/pseuds/IndigoWinter
Summary: Sidon climbs Polymus Mountain with the intent to kill the Lynel terrorizing his people. What he finds when he reaches the summit is something entirely different.Or,Lynel!Link and Sidon somehow become cute monster boyfriends. Sidon just needs to keep everyone from killing Link so they can properly date.





	Fins and Hooves

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been bugging me forever. I had to get something out there. I'll probably edit chapters as I go and develop this idea more. 
> 
> Inspired by these pieces of fanart:   
> https://twitter.com/silvermender/status/851317068402089984  
> https://twitter.com/nohaijiachiart/status/851517228092674048

When Prince Sidon summits Polymus Mountain, he is prepared. 

He is ready to strike down the horrific beast responsible for terrorizing his home and people. He is ready to look death in the face, and emerge victorious, no matter what.  _ He has to _ .

For the good of his kingdom, and his sister. 

What he isn’t prepared for, donned in enchanted topaz and wielding his personal trident, is to be met with the presence of not one Lynel atop the ridge, but two. 

For a long time, he is too stunned to think, much less move. In a moment that he would never live down, he stands out in the open, visible to both the creatures if they were to look a fraction his way- a bejeweled target, glittering under the late afternoon sun. But he can’t help himself. Sidon can hardly breathe he’s so bewildered- because the two- they are-

One, so obviously the Red Lynel he’d prepared to battle from its crimson mane, is, for lack of no better term,  _ arguing _ with the other. And the second Lynel, smaller in stature and fair in color, appears...uncomfortable? It has its back to Sidon, but its body language is undeniably displeased, shoulders curved forward, its hooves stomping here and there... _ nervously _ ? Of course, they aren’t speaking with intelligible words- if they were, Sidon may have collapsed then and there- but some kind of communication was occurring. 

He could hear clicks and grunts come from the new Lynel, only just due to his distance, and deep rumbles and growls from Sidon’s initial target- the sounds exchanged in pattern of back-and-forth that implied conversation. 

Which...is unprecedented. No,  _ impossible _ . 

Lynel are savage, horrific monsters; ones that take mercy on no creature. They are aggressive to a fault, and above all else,  _ solitary _ . Not much is conclusively known about their kind (due entirely to their habit of slaughtering any unfortunate soul who gets too close, not a lack of interest) but  _ that _ was an accepted truth. 

There is a single reported case of two Grey Lynel in the same valley at once (the story taking up ninety percent of the solitary collected work detailing their species which Sidon studied as a child), and the occurrence is only known because the resulting damage from their attempt to  _ kill one another on sight _ had irrevocably razed the land, destroyed nearby ruins, and charred everything living in a half-mile radius to a crisp. 

But these two are talking.  _ Lynel can not talk. _ And while the new Lynel appears uneasy, neither has drawn a weapon- in fact, the new one is unarmed, as far Sidon can tell. An act of confidence? Camaraderie? Foolishness?

_ What does he do now? _ Retreat? Sidon had only prepared to fight one Lynel, and his father did often caution him that the line between bravery and stupidity was paper thin during times of distress. He is facing a true unknown, and if whatever  _ this _ \-  _ Lynel communicating _ \-  _ is _ , Hylia save them, a sign of the monsters cooperating, possibly  _ congregating _ , he had a duty to not only his own people, but all of Hyrule to spread such dire news. 

But this is also an opportunity. The two are perfectly distracted by one another. There will be no better time to strike. 

But ultimately, the choice is taken from his hands. 

Just as Sidon’s mind catches up with the situation and he readies to move, the Red Lynel growls- a longer, deeper sound than its previous ones, one that sends a clear signal of  _ danger, move,  _ **_run!_ ** through Sidon’s mind- and advances on the other, hands outstretched, reaching for the second’s forearms, grasping them. In response, the second reers back in surprise?  _ anger?  _ and kicks out its forelegs, shoving the other away with considerable force- enough to send the Red Lynel back a half dozen feet and stumble. 

Its eyes catch Sidon’s form then, as it shakes itself back to standing, and the prince is struck by how rapidly its expression morphs from one of mild annoyance, to surprise, to absolute fury. Rapid  _ frenzy _ shapes its brow in an instant. It roars, the sound earsplitting in its intensity, no doubt reaching the denizens of Zora Domain. If they- his personal guard, his father, his sister- had not been aware of his departure before, they would surely connect the dots now.

He hates himself for hoping they send help. They would only be rushing to their own deaths, then. Too many had, already. 

_ Goddess, he was such an idiot.  _

Despite his fear, Sidon draws his trident, and readies himself, fins along his arms and legs flaring outward, and he shows his teeth. Even if he cannot kill it, he can cripple it enough for another to finish the job. Running away is no longer an option; he will not chance drawing it toward the Domain, now that he is in its sights. 

“I will end you here,” he says, lowly.  _ “ _ You will never claim another life!”

If it understands him, and it may have, after what Sidon had seen, its face shows nothing. It rushes toward him, sword drawn. Sidon swiftly dodges the charge and swing, and drives his trident into the beast’s flank. He draws blood, that much he can see, but the Lynel recovers faster than Sidon thought possible from its gathered momentum, and leaps back, but not before clipping Sidon with a swing of its shield. Metal connects with his shoulder, and he can hear something crack, but adrenaline demands he ignore any pain. A sharp, terrified trill echos somewhere to his right, but he cannot think on it, everything other than his opponent is muffled, and dull. 

This dance of  _ charge, dodge, attack _ continues, each round varied in its result. Sidon cannot say he is winning- his face is bleeding somewhere from a swipe that nearly claimed his head, the world was beginning to spin before his eyes, and every breath he takes is an affair of sharp, all encompassing  _ pain _ after the monster managed to bash its shield at his chest- but the Red Lynel is not escaping their bouts unscathed, either. 

Sidon manages a single, direct thrust deep into the beast’s upper torso, under an arm, and the wound is bleeding profusely. He begins to have hope that he can outlast the terror. 

And that is when it draws back, and switches weapons to the bow slung round its chest. And Sidon does not need to hear the sharp crackle, or scent the sudden ozone in the air, to know the arrows it draws are enchanted with the sting of electricity. 

And that is when the second Lynel reappears, sword drawn, and decapitates it. 

The Red Lynel collapses unceremoniously, its head far from its body, which twitches for just a moment, before stilling permanently. 

Sidon cannot move. Cannot think. Adrenaline still demands he keep moving, keep fighting, so when he only stands still in shock, his limbs begin to shake with the effort. 

The fair Lynel, he observes, looks nothing like its deceased counterpart, now that Sidon has a view of it from the front. It wears not a plated chestguard, but a blue tunic splattered red with blood, and little else. Instead of the full beard and mane typical of its species, this one has only a long swath of blonde hair atop its head- stands of which hang to frame its face- that travels down its back, matted and dirty, that lacks the fullness of its brotheren. Sidon can see its ears, which are pierced; they’re large and pointed, and remind the prince of a Hylian, though the Lynel’s were fured, same as the rest of its body. 

Sidon distantly wonders, in a thought not entirely conscious, if this is a trait unique to the creature. The full mane of its counterparts kept their ears hidden.

And its  _ eyes _ . Its eyes are a clear, crystal blue, narrowed in absolute fury. But the line of its brow, and drawn mouth, speak of desperate,  _ heart wrenching, _ disappointment.

It sheathes its sword, which it had not a moment ago, and shakes its head. 

Sidon collapses then, the last of whatever kept him upright fleeing through his limbs and to the ground. The grass and dirt beneath him are wet with blood, an ever growing puddle that expands to color his knees and palms.

_ Is that...his own…?  _

Sidon coughs, and resulting pain blackens his vision. 

When he can see again, feel again, he recognizes someone is picking him up. Hands, large and gentle, are under his shoulders, and as he’s lifted from the ground, another cough rattles from his chest, and darkness once again settles over his eyes. He cannot open them again, and doesn’t see much of anything else. His face is burried in something warm and fuured. He’s swaying ever so slightly, up and down, side to side. He’s never been on a boat, or ridden a horse before, but he imagines this is what that is like, distantly. 

He thinks little else, but for whatever reason, blissful nothingness does not claim him. His mind floats in the realm of limbo, not awake but not unconscious.

He stays like that for a while, before the rocking stops, and he’s lifted again. He’s placed on the ground, and he thinks he can feel the same gentle hands touch his face, before the feeling is gone, and the familiar shouts of his guards, and hurried footsteps, finally lure him into deep slumber.  

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome all headcanons, suggestions, and criticism. If there's something you want to see happen, let me know. I only have a loose idea of where I'm going with this.


End file.
